Dear Lydia

I’m writing letters, posting, hoping that you’ll reply
Dear Lydia
You didn’t did ya
Why do you think that all of my intentions are lies
I wouldn’t kid ya
Lydia
I’m having a ball
Ache
Getting through to ya
No post shows up
Heaven knows I’m miserable now
I’ve got the Smiths on
Writing this song
I would have called but it always just descends into rows
Making you p___ed off
Lydia
I’m having a ball
Ache
Getting through to ya
It seems I’m writing War and Peace
In an attempt to set my mind at ease
My writings bad but my spellings worse
Now its made its way from brain to verse
I think by now they’re rather sick
Of us down at the post office
I might be a dog but I’m not your b____
Lydia
Dear Lydia
I’m having a ball
Ache
Getting through to ya